


If You've Ever Been My Friend

by ceemobster



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Brenda is only mentioned, Gen, but also relief?, in some ways, it's just pain, mention of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 20:12:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6534742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceemobster/pseuds/ceemobster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How that last note addressed to Thomas came about; what led up to it, the thoughts, the fears, the <em>decision</em>. Written from Newt's perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You've Ever Been My Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Passages (dialogues mostly) that are obviously taken from the book did not come from me, duh. This is basically a rewrite of that scene from The Death Cure we all know about, but with Newt's perspective instead of Thomas.

He could not believe he just attacked Minho.

As soon as Thomas and Brenda had broken up the fight, clarity found its way back into his mind, a light that momentarily kept the Flare at bay. Yes, Minho had been a completely insensitive slinthead. His words had hurt, a lot. But of course Newt could not blame him for being… him. Minho was Minho was Minho, and anyone would be a fool to expect otherwise.

“How stupid can you get? We’re running from at least one enemy, maybe two, and you guys are gonna brawl?”

“He started it!”

“What are you, eight years old?”

This was not right. None of this felt right. Newt tried to regain a normal breathing pace while Tommy and Brenda was still trying to snap some sense into his best friend.

The realisation made his chest constrict with physical pain. Minho—the boy in front of him, the boy currently struggling to break free and land another blow on his face, the boy that had stuck with him since the very beginning—was his only living best friend. After Alby’s final stunt, there was nobody else that was there for him quite like Minho. Not even Tommy. As much as he had bonded with Thomas, time still rested its favour on Minho. All bloody two years of it.

Newt slowly got up on his feet, massaging his newly bruised cheek. He had to put an end to this, but how? “It’s my fault. Everything’s just tickin’ me off.” He meant every word. “You guys figure out what we should do—I need a buggin’ break.” A break might not help him much, but he knew he needed some time away from the three of them. He needed some time to at least try and think.

And so he walked away.

Unfortunately, one of three did not seem to understand. Only a few seconds after Newt had settled himself on the floor of the hall, Tommy came waltzing in with an obvious look of frustration.

“Don’t say a bloody word.”

“Listen, something weird’s going on—either WICKED is testing us or we’ve got Cranks running around this place killing people left and right. Whatever it is, we need to find our friends and get out of here.”

Newt understood the urgency of the situation, but all he felt was hopelessness. “I know.”

Tommy obviously did not appreciate the two word answer. “Then get up and come back in there to help us. You were the one all frustrated, acting like we didn’t have time to mess around. And now you want to sit out here in the hall and pout?”

His friend was right, he knew it, but everything else was still a losing cause. “I know.”

“We’re all going a little craz—” A pause. Newt looked up at Tommy, whose gaze had turned apologetic. “I mean...”

“Just shut it.” As much as Newt appreciated Tommy’s decency when it came to his ill fate, it was not sympathy that he needed, at least not at the moment. What he needed was an escape. Well, they all did, but what he was trying to escape from compared to what his friends were was vastly different. “I know something’s started in my head. I don’t feel right. But you don’t need to worry your buggin’ panties off. Give me a second and I’ll be fine. We’ll get you guys out of here and then I can deal.”

“What do you mean, ‘get you guys out’?”

At this point, Tommy’s naivety was starting to become obnoxious. Did he really think that they would all be able to live happily ever after together after breaking free from WICKED?

In all honesty, Newt thought it should have been obvious to everyone at the exact moment that he threw his fist at Minho. It did not matter whether or not he ended up out of the bloody building. It was not WICKED that he wanted to break free from, not anymore. It was his brain. His Flared up brain that was surely slipping into insanity. Only he knew it was impossible to do, because there was no cure and there would never be one. Having gone through the second phase of the experiment, Newt knew exactly what the future had in store for him.

Which was exactly why it did not matter whether or not he escaped. What was important was whether or not his friends did. After everything they had been through, Newt felt like he owed it to them to make sure that they came out of this whole mess alive. After that, he would have all the time allowed by the disease to deal with himself. Not that he had any idea how he was going to do that. After all, how could one break away from oneself?

“Get us out, whatever. Just give me a bloody minute,” he said, in spite of his train of thoughts.

And then it hit him. Newt almost laughed at the sudden epiphany, surprised it took him so long to figure out. There was only one way that one could break away from oneself. He had tried it before, though to no avail. The question was would he be able to do it again, with the Flare eating his brain away ever so quickly? Probably not. Soon enough he would not even be able to trust himself.

So who could he trust with it? Naturally, Minho was the first person to come in mind. Newt knew he could trust his best friend with his life. But that was exactly the problem. Minho would do anything in his power to keep Newt alive, even if it meant kicking Newt bloody. They had been through too much together trying to survive, and Minho being Minho... He would never understand.

“Fine,” Tommy said, pulling Newt back to the present. “But you know we can’t waste any more time. Brenda’s gathering ammo. You’ll need to help her carry it to the Berg hangar.”

So who else was there? Who could understand to help him just in time? Who was his friend enough, but at the same time not too much?

The answer, of course, was right in front of him. It—or perhaps _he_ —had been for the past few minutes or so.

“Will do,” Newt answered. A new sense of direction flooded into him as he got up from the floor. “But first I have to go get something—it won’t take me long.”

The reception table was bound to have what he needed. Immediately, Newt started walking away from his friend and towards the room they had passed through earlier. Though his steps were full of purpose, each one felt like it sent a ripple of pain across his whole body, and for once it had nothing to do with his bad leg.

“Newt! Don’t be stupid—we have to move. And we need to stick together.”

_Exactly, Tommy_. “Just go get the stuff! This’ll only take a couple of minutes.” Again, he meant every word.

Newt was relieved that Tommy did not follow him into the reception room. If anything, it made him even more certain of his final decision. Tommy was the one. Tommy was his friend by just the right amount. Tommy would be able to do it. Tommy would help him. Tommy understood.

A stack of paper and several pens and pencils were laid out nicely on the desk, almost as if they had been waiting for him. He immediately got his hands on what he needed. It took him a while to find the right words, the words strong enough that they would convince his friend to end his misery. Eventually, though, he decided to just cut it short and ignore the ache in his soul.

He did not know if he would be able to feel anything at all after it was over. But if that was the case, then above everything else, he would terribly miss his friends.

Debating against the idea of writing down one last lame attempt at a joke about how stinky the toilet in the Glade always was after Minho had had his turn or about Tommy’s annoying inquisitiveness during his greenie days, Newt settled with two short sentences.

The note was meant to deliver one point—and one point would it deliver.

**Kill me. If you’ve ever been my friend, kill me.**

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic almost 3 years ago! Figured I'd post it rather than let it rot in my laptop. Reviews/comments are always welcome.


End file.
